


Sherlock Holmes and the Blind Man's Bluff

by LoveAllTheFandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveAllTheFandoms/pseuds/LoveAllTheFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock work on their friendship, while dealing with their first case following several personal setbacks. Watson is coping with the aftermath of his marriage falling apart and Holmes is learning to live life with a very serious disability.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Warnings: this fic contains some sort of OOC behavior, takes place in alternate universe and is set about a year after the end of season three. Also, in fairness to me, I know next to nothing about how it feels to be bind but I do know what it’s like to lose (temporarily in my case) what it is that makes you special. This can be particularly difficult for someone who feels as if that one item is the only thing which gives their life value (Sherlock and his ability to “observe” things in this case) and so that is what I am going with in the later chapters. If I make any major mistakes about blindness, etc. let me know. This chapter, however, is more like a prologue and only briefly mentions the blind thing. It doesn't go into detail after that. 

I didn’t realize just how badly I had been neglecting my relationship with Holmes until Molly Hooper called me one afternoon and said, “When was the lat time you spoke to Sherlock?” 

I swore to do better after he relapsed last year, but I guess I’m incapable of keeping the promises I make to myself. Not to mention the ones I make to everyone else. _As long as you both shall live._ Or in my case less than eighteen months.

“Oh god, I am so sorry,” I declared, pounding my fist into my desk. My marriage fell apart after what happened with the baby. I considered moving back in with him following my divorce. Perhaps if I had, it would have made a difference. I doubt it, though. “I’ll stop by Baker St. later tonight. It’s been a bit crazy ‘round the surgery…” We both knew it was a lie. But I had to say something to explain my absence.

“John,” Molly interrupted before I could continue with the apology. I could tell she’d been crying from her tone of voice. I saw a vision of my best friend sprawled out on a filthy, crack den mattress. “I thought the same thing at first. Went to confront him this morning. Only, I found…” She paused, making a noise which was equal parts melancholy and hysterical laughter. “He’s at Bart’s. You need to get here immediately.” 

“What happened? Is he…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish this particular sentence. The thought of losing Sherlock [again] was too much to bear. Tears streamed down my face. “I can’t drive in this state. I’ll cause a wreck. Tell me now.”

“He’s alive and he’ll be fine. No, not fine but he’ll live. He’ll continue to walk, and talk, and breathe, and eat, and annoy us for another forty or fifty years. But…there was an accident. One of his experiments blew up in his face. Actually in his face. There aren’t many burn or ash marks. I think the scars will heal. The other doctors believe they can save his eyes. However, he’s currently suffering from severe visual impairment. Sherlock says he can’t…see much of anything.” She paused once more. _“That_ is likely permanent.” Molly made the laughing/crying noise once again, and then hung up the phone before completely losing control.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John visits Sherlock in hospital and speaks to both Molly and Holmes.

While I was en route to the hospital Sherlock’s surgery finished. I knew this because Molly texted me the number of the room he would be in. I was so impatient I kept screaming at the taxi driver and eventually threw a handful of cash in his face. I’m pretty sure I gave the man £100 for a ten minute ride. Then, I hurried inside, and raced trough the hospital corridors. Along my way, I crashed into no less than four people, and a food cart, but I didn’t care. I had to get to my friend. Part of me anted to throttle the bastard for putting me through this kind of hell again. This was his third near death experience in less than a year. Every time I got angry with Holmes for nearly dying on me, I remembered he was the one who had been shot, overdosed, and now this. I had been through my own near death experience. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, let alone my best friend. And three times no less! I’d then beat myself up for neglecting our relationship. I would feel tremendous guilt over what I had done. I’d blame myself for his agony. While I was feeling terrible about his pain, I remember the overdose, and think abut this accident, and I would explode with fury. By the time I reached his corridor, I was on my third anger/sadness/guilt cycle. I was so overwhelmed with concern I walked right past her.  
“John!” she called out, grabbing my arm, and pulling me around. “You just missed the surgeon, but he told me everything.” Molly sobbed.  
“If it is easier, I can read the chart. Then you won’t need to go through this again.” She nodded, wiping her face. Molly turned away from me.  
“It was my New Years resolution. Not to let him upset me anymore,” she explained. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d done this on purpose.” Molly laughed mirthlessly.  
“Since he didn’t do it on purpose, one could argue he didn’t make you feel this way…” Molly nodded and faced me again. Her eyes were puffy and her pockets were bulging. I knew they were filled with tissues. “Did the doctor say if the blindness was permanent?” I  
“The solution melted his goggles to his corneas,” she said. I was shocked and horrified. “They were able to scrape all the plastic off, like with cataracts. He is going to need to keep his eyes bandaged for the next six to ten weeks. He’ll need them on at all times, except to put in medicated drops. Dr. Browne said the blindness won’t be permanent. A year from now, Sherlock could have nearly 20/20 vision. With spectacles.”  
“Well that’s a relief. Well, I mean…” I sighed. “For you or me, loss of sight would be awful but we could adapt. I don’t know what Sherlock would do if…” We both knew I was lying. Holmes only cared about three things in this world: his puzzles, his abilities, and our friendship. In that order. If he couldn’t see, he would lose two of those things in one fell swoop. “Does he know?”  
“Yes,” Molly replied in a quiet voice. I nodded and began to walk towards his room. “Wait!” She looked angry now. Her arms were firmly planted on her hips. Molly’s mouth was pulled into a sneer and she seemed to be grinding her teeth. “I understand you’re going through a lot now, and he can be a challenge, but…” Molly was choosing her words with caution. “If you’re coming back into his life,” I cut her off before she could finish the sentence she had so carefully constructed.  
“I am in his life!’ I shouted. I felt like I needed to defend myself. I felt as though she wasn’t being fair. O course, I was only acting this way because deep down I knew she was right. I had been spending les and less time with Holmes since my divorce. To Sherlock it must have seemed like I’d abandoned him completely. I had abandoned him.  
“He has been recording your conversations and playing them for me. And likely for anyone else who will listen. Sherlock keep asking what he said to upset you. He doesn’t understand. He thinks this is his fault. So if you’re going to be around, you need to stop acting as if spending time with him is a chore. You need to be there the way you used to.”  
“Look, I am sorry. I will do better from now on. I’ve been going through a rough patch. Nothing to do with him.”  
“Sherlock doesn’t understand that. I told him the same thing a thousand times. He is going to require round the clock care for the next few months. How long do you think a home nurse will last?”  
“Less than an hour,” I said, snickering. Molly chuckled too. “Do you think he’d mind if I moved back into the flat?”  
“You need to ask him, and make it sound like you are returning because you need to be there. I can’t imagine he would say no.” I nodded. I did not move. I couldn’t bring myself to enter Sherlock’ room. I did not want to see him in this condition. “Go talk to him. I’ll be in soon. I need to freshen up.” I considered telling her not to bother. With his eyes bandaged Sherlock wouldn’t be able to see her tear-stained cheeks. Then, I realized it was an excuse for us to be alone. Molly walked off. I stood in the doorway staring at my best friend. He was lying on a cot, hooked up to an IV, monitors, and all sorts of things. There were bandages wrapped around his eyes, scorch marks on his face, and some o his hair and eyebrows had been singed off. I couldn’t handle the mixture of emotions and thoughts rushing through my brain. I wanted to run away. I wanted to race over and hug him. I didn’t know what to do. So I stood and stared at him, feeling helpless. Minutes passed I’m not sure how many. Eventually Sherlock’s voice broke through the silence.  
“You might as well come in,” he called out, turning towards me. “I can’t see you but I can smell your deodorant. You also reek from the tuna sandwich you had for lunch.” I stood there, mouth agape, shocked—as usual—by the behavior of Sherlock Holmes. Neither of us said another word for three full minutes. “I sincerely hope you are John Watson, and not someone responsible for my medical treatment.”  
“It’s me,” I replied. “How can you smell the tuna, I had it yesterday. I’ve brushed my teeth four times since then.” Sherlock chuckled.  
“The smell is coming out your pores. And net time you need to answer me sooner. I was worried for a moment there. The last thing I need is to anger the people who make sure I receive essential medical care.”  
“I could always help with that,” I offered. “You’re going to need medical care after you are released, and I am going to need to need a more permanent place to stay. Good job since no nurse would put up with you.”  
“Mycroft could find someone,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.” I had never heard his voice so full of disdain. He hated the idea of a nurse but he was afraid I didn’t want to come back.  
“I’ve been sleeping on a sofa at the surgery. I was hoping you’d be willing to let me move back in,” I said, stepping closer to his body. “I happen to have a bit of medical knowledge. At least as much as any nurse.” We both chuckled.  
“Are you sure you want to care for someone like me?” he asked, his voice trembling a bit. “I know I have been more difficult than ever as of late.”  
“No, you haven’t,” I insisted, placing my hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been distant. I have been avoiding you, but it wasn’t because I am angry, or annoyed. It isn't because you did anything wrong. I’ve lost everything. Well, my wife—my child…sort of. I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to come back to Baker Street because it feels like I’ve failed with my life.”  
“John, I am a drug addict. You found me in an actual heroin den once. Did you think I would judge you or falling in love wit h the wrong person? There’s another thing I’ve done by the way.”  
“Now you tell me,” I told him with a giggle. Sherlock made a weak smile. Then, he whimpered. “Would you mind if I took a peak at your file?”  
“I don’t, but even if I said no you could do it and I wouldn't be able to see. In case you haven't noticed I'm a bit blind at the moment. I am a tad impaired at the moment.” I gave him a dirty look. Then, I realized he couldn’t see me and straightened my face before speaking.  
“Look um, I’m sure they ran a drug screen when you first came in but after a few days on the floor, anything you had the day of the accident would be out of your system anyhow…” I wasn’t sure how to finish this sentence. I didn’t know if I deserved the answer. If he lied to me would I be able to tell?  
“I wasn’t on anything when the explosion occurred,” he promised. Sherlock turned and faced me. “I have no reason to lie about this. Obviously if I had been high what I’ve already suffered is more than punishment enough for my stupidity.” I nodded. “John, if you are going to attempt to communicate with me through the use of gestures, I won't understand you,” he said after a minute.  
“Apparently not,” I replied, feeling myself smile. “That was amazing by the way. How did you know?”  
“The only reason you would stop speaking in the middle of a conversation is if you were nodding or shaking your head and expecting me to know which it was. Since I wasn’t positive, I needed to ask. Since you are telling me how brilliant I am, I take it you were agreeing with me.” I nodded once more.  
“Sorry, I’ve just done it again. I’m a bit of a moron so you will need to be patient with me.”  
“I’ll be the most patient patient you have ever had,” he promised. “Or more likely not.” Sherlock and I both broke out in hysterical laughter. It was just like old times. For the first time in a long time, I was beginning to feel as if my life were on track. Back where it was meant to be.


End file.
